I crept up on him
by begentle
Summary: He always bought our fish. He bought everyone's fish. Actually, he bought a lot of things he didn't need ever since he won the games. Finnick Odair, the boy who killed.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He always bought our fish. He bought everyone's fish. Actually, he bought a lot of things he didn't need ever since he won the games. Finnick Odair, the boy who killed.

I couldn't help but notice him every time he entered the market square. Not because he was gorgeous, but because he was responsible for most of our income. Father never let us forget it.

"Dad, I'm tired of cutting fish," says Leah. "Could I handle the transactions? Even for just a little while?"

Father's eyes drop to our hands, already pink with rawness before the noonday sun emerges. "Soon, Leah. But you know what happened with Grega's shop. It's going to be a while before the District is safe enough for that."

Leah groans. She's so obvious, I want to slap the words off her face. Twins in nothing, not even appearance, I don't understand how we're related.

"She just wants to service the famous Finnick Odair," I tell Father. Pink shocks Leah's face. "And this is the only way he'd have her."

She lunges at me, hands covered in fish guts and scratches, but stops when someone rings the bell. It's him. Leah combs her hair with filthy hands and I return to gutting my fish.

"Do you want your regular order, Finnick?" she asks. I can picture her elbows touching and hip jutted out. "It's so nice to see you."

"I didn't realize I was so predictable," Finnick tells her, leaning forward on his trident. "Throw in a few eels, Mr. Cresta. I wouldn't want to disappoint your beautiful daughter."

There's a jagged scar across his abdomen. I've always wondered why the Capitol didn't fix it the way they fixed everything else - the pierced eyeball, the chunks of flesh from his thigh. He was perfect everywhere else.

"Can't you choose someone else?" I ask Leah when he's gone.

"Um, that was Finnick Odair."

"Do you have any idea how many people he skewered with that trident? And now he walks around with it like some arrogant asshole."

"Annie, Finnick Odair is gorgeous and kind, and when I marry him, I won't ever have to gut a fish for the rest of my life."

I don't say anything more. Gutting fish after fish, I avoid making eye contact with our father, who's always guilty for switching our education to part-time so we could help him out more. Ever since mother's death, things haven't been the same.

Later that day, I end my shift by throwing fish guts at Leah when father's not looking. I cut my hand on my favorite fish hook when I run away, heading to the beach by our house. I've never told father but I fish in my spare time and throw my catch into his bin, adding to our supplies. He'll never admit it, but we live on the brink of ruin. Along with half of District 4.

When nighttime falls, I pack up my gear and head home, walking along the shoreline. It's when I approach the Victor's Village that I hear something.

I freeze.

He's there, and he's not alone. Their clothing lays in a pile by my feet.

"Oh, Finnick," she says. I can barely see them in the water. "You know what I like and exactly where I like it."

I whip around. My fishing gear tangles up, arm and foot through holes in the netting, and down I go. My body hits sand and rock. I shouldn't be there. You're not allowed to cross the Victor's Village unless invited.

"I think someone's here." I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

I scoop up all that I can and run backwards, away from the Victor's Village and one of its many killers. Father would kill me if I lost his business.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

At the market, Finnick stops right in front of me and holds out a hook decorated with flowers.

"You dropped something."

I take it. "Thank you."

He examines me from forehead to chin, then rests his gaze on my mouth. "What's your name?"

I grab a fish. Slice its belly. "My name is Annie." I stuff it with herbs and slather it with grease.

"I would appreciate," he says, stepping forward so inches separate us, "if you didn't tell anyone about last night, if you haven't already. I could make it worth your while."

He leans close and I drop the fish.

"That won't be necessary," I stutter.

The trident is gone today. Probably in someone's stomach. Dead.

"Why are you so bruised?" He reaches out to touch my arm but stops himself. "Is that from last night?"

"Don't worry about it," I tell him. "Now please, you're keeping business from coming through. We actually need to work to survive."

His eyes don't leave my mouth. "I'll see you later, Annie."

Leah is nowhere in sight for hours. I spend my morning gutting fish after fish and preparing them for the customers. Father takes care of the more complicated sea creatures, like shrimp, eel, and mussels. Our customers are few; they stare at at my bruises. Some of them look from them to my father and back, at which point I put on a sweatshirt and let my hair fall forward, hiding my cheek.

Later in the day Finnick stops by with a silver jar. "For your bruises," he explains. "It's from the Capitol."

"That's okay. I don't need it." I won't look at it. I can't look at his blood money, fueled with the last heartbeats of dead children.

"Annie Cresta, you're injured and it's my fault. I'm sorry. Please, take it."

"No," I tell him. "I appreciate the offer, but you do more than enough for us."

"What do I do?" His eyebrows are furrowed, lips parted. He is so beautiful, I can't deny why Leah and Panem have fallen for him splat on concrete.

"You buy our fish every day," I say. "Every. Day. You probably supply most of our income, Finnick. Not all of us are victors who live in the Victor's Village."

I eye his hands, empty of his trident. That golden rod with sharp prongs that skewered children left to right.

"We used to be neighbors," he says, and my head snaps up. "I lived three houses from you. My mother still lives there, actually. Ever since I was a boy, I used to go to your father's market as often as I could. Now that I can come here often, I do."

"Why do you carry your trident?" The words escape my mouth and I grit my teeth. The points on my fish hook dig into my palm.

"Maybe I'll tell you someday."

"Not tomorrow," I say. "That's for sure."

He grins and again, his eyes fall on my mouth. "I'll tell the Capitol you said hello. The new District 4 victor is very much looking forward to the Victory Tour."

"A certain type of person earns it," I say, trying hard to remember a Finnick with buck teeth or acne.

An older woman approaches the stand, so I position myself behind the cash register. But it's Finnick she speaks to, her hand on his elbow. "It's almost time," she tells him then smiles at me.

To me, Finnick says, "You're right. No one decent ever wins the games. But you know what helps? Keeping secrets."

Translation: _Stay quiet. Don't say anything about last night._

* * *

It's the summer solstice and to celebrate, Leah plucks flowers and braids them into her hair and then mine. She crushes mint leaves between her fingers and presses them against her lips, probably thinking of Finnick. He's all she can talk about lately.

"Mom used to tell me about a patch of sparkles," she tells me, wading into the water. "She saw it once, just once, and she never forgot it because she regrets running."  
I nod. "The chink in the armour, she called it. The only way to escape District 4."

"Can you imagine, Annie? How beautiful it must have been?"

"No. She went mad, don't you remember? All she wanted was escape and so she got it."

"Don't say it like that," she snaps.

"Like what? That she went absolutely crazy then killed herself?"

Her wide blue eyes fill up with tears. "Have some respect. She was our mother."

"You brought it up. The sparkles? Apparently that wasn't the only way to escape District 4."

She dives underwater and surfaces several yards away, to where father is sitting on the dock in our backyard, fixing his netting. I pinch my nose and dive until sand scratches my stomach and my hair gets tangled in reef, the water so cold it shuts down all feeling. Leah can be as angry as she wants, we both know the truth about mother - that she's gone and it'll have to one of us, if not both. Our family comes from a long line of instability, every single generation without fail.

It's all a matter of waiting now.

A scream pierces through the water, so I choke before surfacing. Leah screams louder than the night she found mother drowned in her own blood.

This time it's father. They're several yards away but from the distance, I can see the blood and the way father is craned away from half of his body. It must be his arm. Instead of rushing to them, I run back home and tear through the house until I reach mine and Leah's room.

I ruffle through my drawers, looking for it. My clothes fly. I throw myself under the bed, reach out for something, anything, fingertips brushing cotton, scales, silver - yes! I grab it and run outside. Leah presses her shirt against his upper arm, head craned away from the sight.

"Annie, I don't think he's going to make it. Just look at it!" she yells.

"Calm down!"

"It's the start of a fisherman's death. We're going to be out on the streets by tonight, Annie, oh my god. Our lives are done with."

"Look, I have medicine. Just wait."

The inside is slimy, and as I apply it to my father's arm, its magic is instant. Flesh grows and skin expands, stitching itself up until his arm is newer than it was before.

* the line "no one decent ever wins the games" is not mine. It belongs to Suzanne Collins.


End file.
